


Blink If You Can Read My Mind

by thealpacalypse



Category: Lovely Little Losers, Nothing Much to Do
Genre: Alcohol, Fluff, M/M, hinted WinterKing, these boys need to sort out their shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 07:09:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5154872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealpacalypse/pseuds/thealpacalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Balthazar is suddenly gone from his own birthday party, Peter doesn't expect to find him sleeping in his, Peter's, bed. But there he is, fast asleep, and there's no point in waking him up either, and no point in returning to the party without him, so Peter just stays there and no, he doesn't watch him sleep, he's not a total creep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blink If You Can Read My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to get canon balled so fast, wow. I don't care. 
> 
> [Jenna](http://ofcourseitsinsidemyhead.tumblr.com/) and I were talking about how this birthday party is totally gonna escalate, and then this just happened. Partly inspired by [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7EU4XzKP4jE).
> 
> This is not beta'd yet, but hopefully will be at some point later.

Peter stumbles around the flat, pushing through the crowd of dancing people, the bass of the music pulsing in his ears. It’s not that he’s really worried about Balthazar, there’s no reason to, Balthazar seems to have enjoyed his birthday party so far, but – it’s just that… he misses Balth. Which is ridiculous, because they have literally spent the whole evening together and Balthazar just went away fifteen minutes ago, maybe twenty.

 

Balthazar has mentioned a couple of times in the last hour that he was beginning to get tired, so Peter looks in the kitchen first to see if maybe Balth got himself a coffee or a glass of water, but the kitchen is empty except for Meg and Freddie who hysterically laugh about some joke that Peter doesn’t get. He goes to Balthazar’s room next, but closes the door again the second he opens it, because there’s Rosa and Kit making out on Balthazar’s bed and that’s something Peter doesn’t want to see. It kind of makes him smile though as well, because he can never fully shake the feeling of jealousy when it comes to Kit, and for some reason he feared that Balthazar might have vanished somewhere with Kit. Balthazar is not in the bathroom as well, even though Peter can really picture him taking a break from his own party by sitting in the bath with one of his ukuleles.

 

The garden is next, which would be an obvious place for Balthazar to go to find some peace and quiet, because inside the music and the voices of the people are just too loud. But the garden is empty, as is the tent. Peter considers the other options. He knows Freddie’s door is locked, and he also knows that Ben’s room is occupied by Ben and Bea now, who have vanished into there over an hour ago after the millionth time of people telling them to get a room. So, it doesn’t really make sense, but Peter knows, the only place left is his own room. But why would Balthazar go there? Peter thinks he can count the occasions Balthazar has been in that room on one hand, and when he goes back inside and carefully opens the door to his room, he doesn’t really expect that Balthazar is there.

 

But it’s dark in the room, and the dim orange and blue lights from the living room paint an illuminated line over Peter’s bed and Peter can see the back of Balthazar’s head.

 

He hurries into the room and closes the door behind him – the music from the other side of the door is still audible, but it’s more humming bass now and less melody, and the voices of the people sound muffled.

 

“Balth?” Peter whispers into the darkness and waits for his eyes to adjust to it. It’s not completely dark – someone must have left the light at the front porch on, it might have been even Peter when he was looking for Balthazar outside – so Peter can see the grey silhouette of Balthazar lying on his bed.

 

Balthazar lies on his stomach, facing the wall. His head rests on one of his elbows and Peter realizes that Balthazar still wears Paige’s flower crown. It makes Peter smile, and it also makes him feel a whole bunch of confusing things he doesn’t want to examine too closely, because he’s not sober enough for that stuff. (He probably wouldn’t even want to think about it if he was sober, because those feelings are the kind that make him ache and _want,_ and they haven’t turned out great for him so far.)

 

There’s no answer from Balthazar, not even after Peter whispers his name for the second time. Peter can’t see Balthazar’s face, but when he stays quiet for a few moments and tries to ignore all the noise from the living room, he can hear the slow, steady breathing that comes from the bed. Balthazar must be asleep.

 

It makes Peter huff out a little noise of surprise and he shakes his head. _That kid is unbelievable_ , he thinks. He himself could never fall asleep at a party, it’s too loud, there’s too much adrenaline running through his veins…

 

But there he is, Balthazar Jones, sleeping quietly with his friggin’ flower crown like an elvish creature in the forests, hair shining in the moonlight. Well, not moonlight, just the front porch light, but who fucking cares, Peter decides this is a poetic moment and Balth is the stuff that fairy tales are made of. He’s drunk, okay, he doesn’t need to justify his weird, sappy thoughts to anyone.

 

Maybe he should wake Balth up, he thinks. He feels creepy just standing there in the darkness and watching Balthazar sleep. But then what? Shouldn’t he rather let Balthazar sleep if he’s really tired enough to fall asleep in Peter’s bed? And it’s not like Balth could go to his own room, where Rosa and Kit are probably still ruining the covers of Balthazar’s always beautifully made bed.

 

Peter also thinks about crawling into his bed and curling up next to Balthazar. He could just bury his face in Balthazar’s neck, pull him close, hold his hand, until he fell asleep next to Balthazar… the urge is there and it’s strong, but no. Balthazar doesn’t want this, he has made that very clear. And Peter would never want to do anything to hurt Balthazar, he’s not that person anymore, he can never be that person again with Balthazar.

 

So Peter just sighs sadly, shrugs as if to answer a question no one asked, and grabs a book. He doesn’t feel like going back to the party anymore, honestly, what’s even the point of a birthday party if the birthday kid is not around anymore, so he sits down on the floor next to his bed, turns on his lava lamp and reads.

 

It’s not like he’s really focusing on reading though. There’s still the music in the next room, there’s still a whole bunch of people out there talking and dancing, there’s still Balthazar Jones lying in his bed, so there’s just too much going on in his head, and he’s not really drunk, but he’s not exactly sober as well, so that doesn’t help. It doesn’t matter, really. He’s read _The Song of Achilles_ a bunch of times, he just reads it now to keep his mind occupied and to calm down.

 

When the door opens at half past two and Paige and Chelsey squint into the darkness, Peter quietly puts a finger on his lips, shakes his head and points to the bed. They both raise their eyebrows, but Paige nods, mouths “goodbye” and closes the door. No one else bothers them and after a while Peter can hear how the party quiets down a bit.

 

He doesn’t quite notice when the music is gone, but when he lifts his head sometime later to see that Balth still hasn’t moved one bit, he realizes that it’s almost quiet in the flat now. There are still a few murmuring voices out there, and he can hear someone giggling in the other room, might be Freddie, Peter isn’t entirely sure.

 

His back is sore and his ass hurts from sitting on the floor too long, but it’s not like he can go anywhere. So he grabs his spare blanket that’s lying on the floor next to the bed, tries to wrap himself in it in a way that makes it at least slightly more comfortable to sit and leans against the wall. He picks up his book again, but reading isn’t really an option anymore, his eyes are just too tired and the lava lamp is actually not the best light to read to anyway. He tries to concentrate on the words for a little longer, but it doesn’t take too long before he just falls asleep like that, head leaned against the wall, the open book resting on his chest.

 

When Peter wakes up again it’s already beginning to dawn outside. Someone has turned off the light at the front porch and it’s completely quiet in the house, so Peter isn’t sure at first about what woke him, but when he turns his head – his neck is feeling unpleasantly stiff – he sees it: Balthazar is standing next to Peter, his hand hovering over Peter’s shoulder as if he just touched it or was about to touch it, Peter isn’t sure.

 

It takes Peter a few seconds to process what’s going on – he’s confused at first about being on the floor down here and he doesn’t understand at first why Balthazar is there – but then he remembers it all and bites his lips and laughs nervously for no reason.

 

“Good morning, Balthy.” He tries to sound cheerful and nonchalant as if none of this makes his heart and stomach flip, but his voice sounds sore, and there’s just a pinch too much raw emotion in there for Peter’s taste.

 

Balthazar smiles down at him and mirrors him with the lip biting before he says, “Sorry to wake you, I just, uh, I thought maybe you wanna catch a few more hours of sleep in your own bed. Umm… sorry about occupying it all night, that wasn’t – I didn’t, uh, yeah. Sorry about that.”

 

Peter quickly gets up on his feet, flinches when his book falls from his lap to the floor, and tries his best not to groan too pathetically when he realizes how sore every single one of his muscles feels.

 

Balthazar frowns and quickly adds another “Sorry!” before Peter can stop him.

 

“No, it’s okay,” Peter finally manages and picks up his book so he doesn’t have to look at Balth. Usually looking at him is the easiest thing in the world, it’s actually so much harder not to look at him, but right now… the early hour and the quietness of the house after all the noise of the night makes it somehow impossible to hold Balthazar’s gaze.

 

Peter tries not to think too hard about it, because this doesn’t mean anything, he knows that now, all the times when he thought he was reading Balthazar’s signals it was just wishful thinking. So he pulls himself together and goes on, “I know, you were tired, Rosa and Kit were in your room, there was no other option. It’s alright.” He tries to be his confident self, the one with the happy grins, the one that can deal with just being Balthazar’s friend, that one. But it’s too early and he can’t take his eyes from Balthazar’s hands and the way they nervously hold on to the flower crown. So there’s no happy grin, just a tired sigh while he tries to brush away that one image that followed him into his dreams, the one where he’s snuggled up in bed next to Balthazar.

 

They just stand there, awkwardly and in silence. Peter’s gaze wanders from Balthazar’s hands to his own in which he still holds his book, to the clock on the wall that tells him it’s half past 6, to the lava-lamp that’s still slowly bouncing glowing bubbles up and down.

 

Finally, after an eternity, there’s Balthazar’s voice again. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

 

And it’s a simple enough question, Peter could just tell the truth, that he thought Balthazar was tired and he knew there was no other place to sleep. But somehow it doesn’t seem like the question he hears is actually the question Balthazar asks. And it sometimes feels like that with Balthazar, as if he’s using words differently than everybody else, but it has never been so obvious before.

 

Peter just has to look at Balthazar now. And he sees so much there, so much he didn’t expect to see, so much he doesn’t understand. He has never seen that look on Balthazar’s face before, but somehow he has the feeling that he should have seen it countless times. That he could have seen it, if he only had paid more attention. Maybe he sees it because this time he’s not the cool one who is always in control, he’s not the confident guy with the happy grin. Maybe he sees it because it’s just he himself now – whoever that is.

 

“Balthy.” His voice is merely a whisper, and there’s this moment where this simple name turns into something else entirely, turns into a confession, becomes something almost like _telepathy_. It’s ridiculous, he knows, but he’s almost tempted to think, _Blink if you can read my mind._

 

Laughing about it would be an option, laughing about his weird brain and those cheesy feelings that never really felt so cheesy when they were about Balthazar, but he knows, it’s the Peter with the happy grin that would laugh now, and seriously, that guy sucks in situations like these.

 

So Peter just stays quiet instead, something that’s so hard for him to do but feels necessary now, and he waits. And looks at Balthazar.

 

Balthazar’s jawline tenses and relaxes again, Balthazar swallows and blinks and ruins the flower crown with his nervous fingers and Peter still waits, and looks at Balthazar.

 

And when Balthazar finally looks back, he asks the real question, the one he wanted to ask in the first place. “You could’ve done anything you wanted tonight, you could’ve gone home with Jaquie or Costa or whoever, but instead you spent the whole night with me and let me sleep in your bed and slept on the floor. Why? Do you think you owe me or anything? Are you trying to prove a point? I don’t get you, Peter, what is…”

 

 _He talks like he expects to be interrupted_ , Peter thinks, and the thought feels like a burning sting in his chest. It feels like guilt.

 

Peter waits for a bit longer, but Balthazar doesn’t say anything anymore.

 

The answer is simple, Peter knows, the simplest thing in his whole mess of a life right now. But it’s also the hardest, harder than saying sorry ever was, because this is it, this is the moment he will finally put his heart on the line, no take backs.

 

“Because,” he breathes, “I don’t wanna go home with Jaquie. Or Costa, or anyone. I wanna be with you. Just you. Because… because I’m in love with you.”

 

And there it is, the whole truth. All those scary words that he didn’t want to say before because he knew there was no going back after this.

 

Balthazar stares at him, eyes wide. And Peter’s heart beats so loud and fast that he almost doesn’t hear when Balthazar whispers a soft: “Oh.”

 

Everything happens so slowly after that. Balthazar lowers his gaze, looks back at his hands. Looks at the flower crown there as if he sees it for the first time. Places it carefully on the bed, then looks at the book in Peter’s hands, reaches for it, takes it. Puts it on the bed next to the flower crown. Finally looks back up at Peter again.

 

Peter is not sure if it’s his hands that are shaking, or Balthazar’s, when Balthazar laces their fingers together. There are so many things to say, and Peter wants to say them all, but he knows it’s not his turn. He knows that for once he has to shut up and endure the silence until Balthazar is ready to speak.

 

Balthazar is not ready for a long time. They just stand there, holding onto each other’s hands, looking at each other, and Peter thinks he might explode if Balthazar doesn’t say anything anytime soon.

 

But the longer the silence stretches, the more Peter realizes that Balthazar _is_ speaking. Not with words, but so much more. He says _I can’t believe what you’re saying_ with the way his lips are slightly parted. He says _But I want to believe you so much_ with the way his head is lowered but his eyes are still fixed on Peter’s face. He asks _Was I really so wrong about you the whole time?_ when he breathes out shortly through his nose. And finally, with the way he slightly leans forward, just the tiniest bit, he seems to sigh _I need to know if this is real_.

 

Peter would call himself mad for all that, because telepathy isn’t an actual thing, and he’s not a mind reader, but it’s all right there for him to see and understand. So it’s his turn to speak after all.

 

“Can I… can I kiss you?” he asks and his voice sounds so loud in his ears after all those unsaid words.

 

Then there’s only a short, shaky breath and a nod from Balthazar, before Balthazar leans in and puts his lips on Peter’s.

 

And this is the moment when Peter falls apart and lets Balthazar’s kiss put him back together again in the blink of an eye. Balthazar is smiling, Peter can feel it. This is nothing like the last time their lips touched, nothing like he expected, but all he ever hoped for and more. And it’s just them, no stumbling over all the wrong words, no fake happy grins, no secret questions that are hiding behind other questions. And Peter holds on to Balthazar’s hands the entire time.

 

When they part, only enough to breathe, Balthazar’s face lingering only inches from Peter’s, it’s Balthazar who laughs lightly and jokes, “wow, I feel a bit dizzy.”

 

And Peter laughs with him, feeling so close to Balthazar that words can’t even begin to describe it. But who needs words anyway, they’re both mind readers now, because now they’re looking at each other, really _looking_ , and they’re not hiding.

 

“Well, sounds like you could do with a couple more hours of sleep, too,” Peter smiles. “I will gladly share my bed with you now if you want.” And because he feels Balthazar’s hesitation and tension from the way Balthazar leans back slightly, and from the way Balthazar’s fingers flinch in his, if only for a second, he immediately adds: “For sleeping purposes.”

 

Balthazar smiles and nods and only two minutes later they’re already lying side by side in Peter’s bed. It’s Balthazar who rolls around, puts his head into the crook of Peter’s neck and reaches for Peter’s hand to hold.

 

Not even one whole minute after that and Peter feels himself falling asleep.

 

__________________________________________________________

 

It’s almost 10 in the morning when the door to Peter’s room opens. The whole flat is still quiet, but the camera on the coffee table catches two thin, long legs in dark jeans, two bare feet. No upper body at first, the camera isn’t placed there on purpose, it just got forgotten there, it doesn’t catch the room in the right angle.

 

But then the bare feet cross the room. Hands with a tattered flower crown in them become visible, then arms in shirt sleeves that are way too long, then a head with messed up hair that still manages to look completely flawless.

  
Balthazar Jones is almost all the way across the living room, two steps away from the door of his own room, when he suddenly notices the camera on the table. He stops, turns around and walks over to the coffee table. He picks up the camera, examines it for a moment, looking directly into the screen and then his face lights up with a knowing grin.

 

“Heya Ben,” he says, “you know, we really need to get rid of those stupid rules.”

 


End file.
